As far as confessions go this is something I’ve never told anyone and will take it to my grave. I often feel a lot of guilt and regret over it but what’s done is done. A few years ago I came back to my hometown for the summer. My brother (33) and his wife (32, and for the purposes of this confession let’s just call her Claire) were kind enough to let me stay with them. They had been married for 5 years at that point and bought a new house that I never got to see in person previously. They told me they had a basement suite that was vacant as their tenant moved, there was a hot tub, massive flat screen, great kitchen, it was a really nice, cozy place. They didn’t want me to even pay rent or anything. I was 25, nearly broke, had just graduated from college, and was trying to figure out what the next step was so I jumped at the opportunity. I found a part time job doing landscaping a few days a week and settled into a routine. It was sweet and exactly what I needed after grinding academically for 4.5 years. It was a great time. Lots of drinks, good cooking, we hosted a few house parties, chilled in the hot tub in the evening, went to the beach and caught up a lot. I hadn’t seen either of them in a couple years. We kept in touch but I never visited much.